


Ask me

by lesbihane



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Almost Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, angsty but with a glimmer of hope, harold on pain meds, john in emotional pain like always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-04-26 06:58:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbihane/pseuds/lesbihane
Summary: Harold is severely injured and in the hospital, drugged up and chatty, but John is more worried over Harold's comfort than his own feelings, as usual. Inspired by drugged Finch and the ending scene in 1x18.





	1. Chapter 1

“Now’s your chance, John. you’ve waited for one long enough-” Harold waved his hand to dismiss John’s defensive expression. “Hush, hush, we both know it’s true, you have been just dyyying to know something about my past and something true about my present as well.” 

John looked down, guilty; it was true, he had been trying to gather bits and pieces of truth in everything Harold had told him about himself, which wasn’t much to go on. It wasn’t like he’d try to hide it, it had begun as him trying to satisfy his curiosity and transformed into a game for the both of them, but he still felt bad for not leaving it be.

“It seems to be your lucky day, for I’m feeling generous and in the mood for some conversation - of course, it’s most likely because of the copious amounts of morphine in my system.” Harold babbled on, wincing as he tried to get into a better position on the hospital bed. John jumped up to help him, prepared to ignore the usual resistance Harold displayed whenever John tried to help him with something physical, but to his surprise Harold let him prop up the pillows to support him better without even an annoyed sigh. 

“Ask me something, John. Ask me anything, whatever you desire, and I’ll promise to answer as truthfully as I’m able to in my current condition.” Harold smiled, his eyes a little loopy behind his thick glasses. Despite his imminent amusement, John was shaken to see his partner like this; drugs this heavy meant the damage was heavy too. He shook his head, gaze on the floor.

“You should get some sleep, Finch.” John stood up to leave before his drugged-up employer said something he would later regret. He also felt an urgent need to put some distance between them, even if it was just the few feet between the hospital bed and the chairs on the corridor outside the room - coming so close to losing Harold had brought up something inside him he had tried hard to bury and he needed a moment to himself to breathe. 

But before he could turn away, Harold reached to grab his hand. John froze at the touch, unable to move or look at Harold in the eyes. Harold’s grasp was weak but not hesitant and his dozy eyes were looking right at John.

“Ask me about my feelings toward you, John.”

John’s heart stopped. He pursed his lips together and gathered his strength to finally return Harold’s gaze, which was so full of genuine, unfiltered trust it made John’s chest ache. And for a moment, he let himself feel what he had tried so hard not to, and took Harold’s hand into his. They stayed like that for a moment, holding hands in silence, alone together. What was barely half a minute felt like forever, until John let go of Harold’s hand and set it carefully on his lap. He stopped at the door on his way out and turned back for a second before walking through it, smiling ever so slightly.

“Good night, Harold.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizing all the dozens of choices he had made through his behavior towards John, Harold drew a sharp breath and decided to make another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to AutumnSerpent for proofreading this and to everyone who commented on the first chapter! I had originally planned this to be a two-parter but I probably wouldn't have gotten around to actually writing the second part without all the comments asking for more. So, thanks.

“Watch your step.” John gripped Harold’s free arm tight, steadying him as they climbed the stairs to the library together. The clink of Harold’s cane hitting the steps echoed in the open space, accompanied by the cacophony of their footsteps. Bear whined impatiently from the top of the stairs, not used to waiting so long after dashing up the stairwell before his owners.

“There’s really no need for all this, you fussing over me.” Harold shrugged Johns hand off the second they reached the library floor, eyeing Bear in disapproval. “Both of you.”

“No fuss.” John said, pointing a finger at Bear’s bed to get the dog, who was now excitedly circling around Harold with a tennis ball in his mouth, out of Harold’s way. “Just glad to have you back.”

Harold glared at John with lips pursed in annoyance as John rushed by him to pull out the computer chair for him and John’s remark of him ‘keeping it warm’ for Harold did not help his case. As he sat down, Harold swiped a finger over the computer desk, catching a layer of dust on it. 

“Perhaps you should’ve done some cleaning instead, Mr. Reese.” 

“Perhaps you should keep less secrets, Finch, like where you keep the cleaning supplies.” 

The first part of John’s remark was a little too pointed for Harold’s liking, even if his implications were buried under a layer of his usual nonchalant charm. His scowl turned into a hesitant frown, still focused on John who was now pinning a picture of their newest number on the whiteboard, back turned. Harold could see John’s broad shoulders move slightly as he spoke but the words didn’t reach him; the fondness he felt for the man even despite his annoyance was suddenly painfully familiar. 

He stared at John’s suited figure without seeing him. The burning pain in his body paired with the warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt since _him_ , since _that day_ , brought up a tidal wave of memories and Harold drowned in it. He was standing at the pier again, they were going to make things right, Nathan was smiling at him, and suddenly he wasn’t anymore. Suddenly he was in pain like he’d never felt before but would soon become all too familiar with, there were people everywhere, lying down, rushing around, crying, yelling, dying, and Nathan was there, but he wasn’t smiling anymore, he wasn’t breathing, he was dying and Harold couldn’t get to him, he was going to die and it was all because of-

“Harold!”

Harold came back to reality so abruptly it felt violent, like the surprise of accidentally touching a red-hot stove. Blinking, he met John’s worried eyes staring right into his and pulled away out of reflex. John took a step back and let his hands fall to his sides from Harold’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

There was a moment of silence as Harold took off his glasses with shaking hands and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to collect his thoughts. John sat on the edge of the computer desk, ready to forget anything had happened if Harold so wished, though he hoped he didn’t. He didn’t ask what happened; he’d seen it before, hell, he’d been there himself - he used to be there every night. The kind of life they had lead left its marks.

“Yes,” Harold finally stuttered, putting his glasses back on. “Yes, thank you, John, I’m - I’m quite alright, just feeling a bit weary after my lengthy stay at the hospital.” 

John gave a small nod, still holding on to hope; hope that Harold would finally let him in, willingly, even a little. Hope that he’d _want_ him in. But the wall of silence, of words unsaid, of secrets kept, rose back up between them as Harold said nothing more and turned back to the computer. John felt something crumble inside him, stone after stone dropping down to the bottom of his stomach, weighing him down. He stood up and turned to the door, clearing his throat.

“I’ll go get us something to eat while you,” He waved his hand dismissively toward the computer. “do that. You should eat real food after all that hospital chow. Chinese?” 

Harold could sense the hurt in John’s demeanor even though the man hid it well. His voice didn’t betray him, his face blank as usual, yet something told Harold he had just made a choice by staying silent and that it was the wrong one. The loss of a lover hung so heavy in his heart he had rejected even the thought, the possibility, of another, even when he was already there. He was afraid; the walls he’d built around himself were cracking at last and the safety they provided both for him and for the people they kept away at risk. 

Realizing all the dozens of choices he had made through his behavior towards John, Harold drew a sharp breath and decided to make another one. 

“John, wait.”

The words caught John halfway through the door and made him turn back. 

“Want something other than the usual?”

“No, John, wait. Please, come, sit down.“ Harold gestured vaguely to a nonexistent seat beside him and waited as John fetched himself a chair from the other end of the room and sat on it with a puzzled look on his face.

“It has… come to my attention that some of my reasons for withholding such a significant amount of information from you may have been rather… self-serving. I had convinced myself that it was all for your protection, when in fact you have proven yourself time and again to be quite capable of taking care of yourself, and others.”

Harold spoke without haste, pausing at times, crafting every word carefully in his mind before saying it out loud. He was visibly uncomfortable with his own honesty, struggling to maintain eye contact with John, who was beyond surprised at Harold’s confession. Still, he tried to make light of the situation in order to ease Harold into relaxing.

“That’s good to hear. I did suspect you only hired me for my looks and undeniable charm.” 

Even though Harold rolled his eyes at his comment, John caught the way the corner of his mouth curled up into a smile so muted it was almost unnoticeable. 

“As I was saying, mr. Reese,” he paused and cleared his throat. “ _John_ , perhaps our relationship evolve into a more… equal one, information-wise. Within certain limits, of course.” Harold concluded as if he was negotiating terms on a business deal instead of having a conversation with closest thing to a friend he had.

Stunned as he was, John recognized his chance to finally ask the question he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about ever since Harold’s first night at the hospital. He took a deep breath in and spoke before he had time to hesitate, his stomach quickly filling with butterflies.

“Harold, can I ask you something?”


End file.
